


non-negotiable

by Crollalanza



Series: Mad Dogs and Setter-sans [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Injury, M/M, Sexual Content, horny boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: “Was Irihata serious?” Kyoutani murmured. “About the results being ‘non-negotiable’.”Yahaba’s mouth dried. “Um… is there a problem?”With the news that Kyoutani has always had to attend supplementary classes and thus could miss Seijou's summer training sessions, Yahaba offers to help him study.But with other things on his mind-not least a summer barbecue he needs to find a venue for, and his boyfriend's deliciously distracting muscles-how much studying will they actually get down to?





	1. a plum is a just a f*cking plum

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to No Date But What We Fake, which is the story of how they got together. It should stand alone, but you might want to read it anyway. :D 
> 
> There's some sexual content in this chapter, but that's about it.

_  
?_

Out of the corner of his eye, Yahaba saw the movement. It was slight, but unmistakeable, especially as it was the third time during Coach Irihata’s end of session speech that it had happened. Possibly it was a stretch, and on another person, particularly Kindaichi, Yahaba would have dismissed it as fidgeting, but …

Turning his head a little to the side, and the subject of his observations immediately stilled and returned to sitting hunched over, head on knees, scowling as Irihata rose to his subject.

“So, the ball, as they say, is in your court. It is up to you whether you rise and spike, or fail to get your serve over the net. Results at Aobajousai are non-negotiable.”

Several of the first years, having not heard this wind down to Summer speech, flinched, and Yahaba narrowed his eyes at them, but was reassured that none of them looked particularly daunted at the task.

“The first two weeks of the holiday are important for us a team. Whilst I can’t enforce attendance, it is desirable that you are here every day, promptly at nine. Over Summer we grow, consolidate and gel,” Irihata continued. “It’s not all work. Continue the friendships you make here …” His eyes flickered to the boy sitting further behind the others. “Bond with each other. There will be social events too, eh, Yahaba-kun?”

 _Uh._ He blinked and Oikawa-san’s face from the previous year flashed before his eyes, sitting where Yahaba now sat, but with Iwaizumi stretched alongside and rolling his eyes when Oikawa cleared his throat to speak.

Yahaba swallowed and then beamed his widest smile. “Of course. And I hope to see everyone – death and serious—” He meant to twitch his lips to show it was a joke, but on hearing Watari snort, he straightened his face and adjusted his words. “Parents permitting, of course,” he finished in a slightly quieter tone.

“Splendid!” Irihata clapped his hands and got to his feet. “I believe in you all,” he called as he headed out of the gym and didn’t look back.

“Yahaba-kun, I can leave locking up you, yes,” Mizoguchi called out, no question in his voice but a tempered tone to stop it sounding like an order.

“Yup, no problem,” Yahaba replied, and caught the keys arcing their way through the air.

There was just enough time after he’d changed for lunch. Sitting outside on the gym steps with both Kyoutani and Watari, they waited for the others to leave, watching the first years scurry to the dining hall, while they slurped drinks and picked rice rolls out of bento boxes.

“So what have you got planned for our entertainment, Captain-san?” Watari teased.

“Ha … the usual.” Yahaba shrugged. “Cinema and ramen. Volleyball in the park. Ten pin bowling.” He chewed the side of his mouth. “Might do a quiz. What do you think?”

“Spare us,” Kyoutani muttered and bit into a wrap.

“What’s wrong with a quiz?”

Kyoutani scowled. “It’s the holidays.”

Behind them the door closed and looking over his shoulder, Yahaba watched Kindaichi and Kunimi, the last to leave, step down towards them. Kunimi was already plugged into his phone, sparing only a cursory nod at his sepias, but Kindaichi hesitated.

“Yahaba-san?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you have a date for the barbecue yet?”

“Uhm…”

“Only…” He swallowed and stared at his feet. “I enjoyed it last year so wanted to make sure of the date so my parents knew in good time and … uh … yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Will it be at the end of the training fortnight? Only I’ve got a family holiday to go on, too and—”

“Very likely,” Yahaba replied, hoping he sounded authoritative and not vague. “Ironing out a few small details.”

Bowing, Kindaichi left catching up to Kunimi who was scuffing his shoes along the ground, leaving Yahaba with the beginnings of a headache.

“Ahh, the Seijou barbecue,” Watari drawled. “The stuff of legend.”

“Huh?”

Watari turned to Kyoutani. “You didn’t come last year did you?”

“Wasn’t back in the team, no. And ducked out of the one the year before,” he replied, sounding neutral.

“Perfect setting,” Watari mused. “The Oikawas provided the food, which was delicious. Downside was Oikawa-san believing he could barbecue so the first burgers were burnt on the outside and raw in the middle. And the chicken was –”

“Salmonella on a plate,” Yahaba said laughing. “Fortunately Hanamaki-san took over.”

“And that’s why it was so great?” Kyoutani rolled his eyes.

“No, they have a huge garden and Oikawa planned races, and there were some three-on-three matches, plus a baseball game,” Watari continued, then nodded at Kyoutani. “You’d have enjoyed it, although Iwaizumi-san would still have whooped your ass.”

Kyoutani grunted something, but he didn’t scowl, and Yahaba kept the small smile to himself at how much less defensive and open to teasing now he realised it wasn’t always a personal attack.

“And the year before? Was that at Oikawa’s, too?”

“Nope, but the Captain’s house backed onto a park. It was a blisteringly hot day, so we all cooled down in the fountain.” Watari grinned. “Iwaizumi-san got really pissed at Oikawa and shoved him in fully clothed.” He closed his bento box, rubbed his hand over his mouth and then stood up. “Right, I’m going to see if I can catch Ishigawa before science.” He gave a wink, a cheery wave and then jogged away.

“It’s not compulsory you know,” Yahaba said, turning to face Kyoutani. “I know you hate socialising.”

There was silence. Yahaba shuffled a little closer to Kyoutani, then stretched out his legs when he didn’t respond, nudging his ankle.

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

Kyoutani didn’t immediately scowl and move closer, neither did he mutter ‘Fine’, but began to chew his thumbnail, gnawing at the side.

“What’s the matter?” Yahaba tried again.

“Was Irihata serious?” he murmured. “About the results being ‘non-negotiable’.”

Yahaba’s mouth dried. “Um… is there a problem?”

“So, he meant it?”

“Um, well, do you remember Michibata, two years above us?”

“Wing Spiker? Red kit bag?”

“Yes, that’s him. He had to take supplementary classes after failing, and missed the first week.”

“The whole week!”

“Well, he failed _everything_ so had to take all the classes. That’s … um … how Hanamaki-san got his chance.”

“Shit.”

“Uh…” Yahaba winced, slid a little closer and touched Kyoutani’s arm. “How much of a problem is this?”

“Literature and English. I’m not … like, Maths and Science are fine, I can scrape past in Social Studies, but those two.” He groaned, holding his head in his hands. “Fuck it, I’m screwed!”

It was, in an odd way, heartening that he was so pissed off. A clear distinction from his attitude of last year. Yahaba reached out and touched Kyoutani’s hair, running his hands over the tight buzz cut.

“I can help you study,” he offered.

But Kyoutani flinched. “It’s my fucking problem.” He launched onto his feet, jumped down the steps and began to stride away.

“Stop.” Gathering his bag, Yahaba raced after him. “I know I’m only Class 4, but Literature’s my best subject and I’m okay at English, too.”

“Yeah, I know!”

“So?” Reaching out he plucked Kyoutani’s sleeve, pulling him back. “Look, we were going to hang out in the park as there’s no practice, but why don’t we go back to mine and we can go through some things? You could stay for dinner, too.” Staring him in the eyes, he murmured. “Let me help.”

Kyoutani sniffed, then let out a sigh. “Won’t your parents mind?”

“No.” He almost laughed. “They’re used to Watari coming over, and … well… they’re both working anyway. Or, we could go to yours, if that’s better?”

Snorting, Kyoutani shifted his stance and began to walk away, but slowly, letting Yahaba keep pace. “My sister won’t stop talking about you, so if you come over, she’ll spend the whole time pestering you.”

“Will she?” Smirking, he swept back his hair.

And received a punch on the arm.

“She wants to be a Setter, that’s all. It’s not you, Idol-chan!”

“After school then,” Yahaba replied, and made a show of rubbing his arm. “If I haven’t got a dead arm.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Kyoutani muttered and picked up his pace.

Kyoutani was late meeting him at the gates, so while Yahaba waited he chatted to his classmates as they wandered past, some scurrying home, but others stopped to talk, remarking on the heat of the day, the damn flies, and ‘no volleyball today?’

“No, it’s Monday,” Yahaba replied, knowing he said this every week to the same people. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A cute someone?” a girl from his class asked, a little slyly.

“ _I_ think so, but he’d whack me if I told him,” Yahaba replied, exaggerating a smitten sigh.

She wasn’t taken aback, none of them were, with his reveal, but seeing Yahaba lift his hand and proffer a wave as the slouching figure of Kyoutani appeared, did somewhat still their expressions.

“Isn’t that … uh … he’s on your team, right?”

“Mad-Dog-chan,” one girl whispered.

“Not cute,” another said, but smiled. “Hot, though.”

“Oi!”

She was glared at by her boyfriend, but she giggled. “Come on, let’s go and get ice-cream. Have fun, Yahaba-kun.”

“We’re studying,” he called after her.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it,” she laughed.

A few of them loitered after that, wandering slowly away, but checking back over their shoulders.

“What’s their problem?” Kyoutani snarled. “Were they having a go?”

Yahaba grinned. “They were telling me to have fun.”

Only slightly mollified, Kyoutani’s shoulders dropped. He took a slug of water from his bottle and scuffed the ground with his toes. “Not my idea of fun,” he muttered. Then, seemingly thinking better of his bad mood, he straightened up. “Come on.”

“You don’t want to spend time with me? Alone?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Still snorting, Yahaba led the way, occasionally bumping his shoulder into Kyoutani’s or letting his hand smooth into his when he wanted to change direction. And as they wandered under the sunshine, Kyoutani’s mood began to lighten too.

“So what do you want to look at tonight?”

“Uh… literature. We’ve got a test tomorrow. Kind of practise for the end of term shit.”

 _Tomorrow, wow okay!_ He beamed a smile. “No problem.” He slowed his pace, coming to a halt and tugged on Kyoutani’s arm. “We’re here.”

“Oh … yeah …” Kyoutani looked up … and up …. Taking in first the gates and fence and then the four storey block of flats. “Looks different in the daytime.”

“You think so?” Blinking Yahaba tried to imagine what it would look like to a fresh pair of eyes. True the building was smart as it had recently been spruced up. The facilities and communal garden were well laid out and pleasant for the residents, and inside the lifts worked, the carpets were clean and plush, and the light fell through the windows, sparkling at the panes of glass.

“You’re ground floor, right?”

“Yup, next to the stairwell.” _And the laundry room._ He pressed the gate buttons, waited the short while before they swung open, then gestured for Kyoutani to enter.

A babble of water greeted them—the fountain in the front garden spattering its diamond drops into the well below.

“This wasn’t on last time,” Kyoutani mocked. “Is this so the fish can have a bubble bath?”

“It was evening.” Dabbling his fingers in the water, Yahaba pursed his lips. “Don’t take the piss.”

“Is there a swimming pool, too?” he asked, undeterred.

“No, there’s not a pool, but there’s a lily pond full of koi carp in the back and I can push you in if you like,” he replied, and flicked water into Kyoutani’s face.

As Kyoutani pushed him backwards, the door to the apartment block opened and a lady stood there, rapping her stick on the railing.

“Shigeru-chan!” she cried. “Where is your mother?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only just got back, Mitsuhana-san,” Yahaba said, bowing. “Do you need her for anything important?”

“No, no…” She narrowed her eyes, taking in the boy next to Yahaba. “Who are you? He looks like a hoodlum. Why are you letting a hoodlum in here?”

“Don’t react,” Yahaba murmured, steadying Kyoutani’s arm as Mitsuhana started waving her stick. “He’s a friend from school and plays volleyball with me.”

“He’s not that nice Watari. Why isn’t he here?”

“Seeing his girlfriend, Mitsuhana-san,” he replied, still smiling as he plucked Kyoutani’s sleeve and hissed, “Just bow and say something respectful.”

But to his surprise, Kyoutani was already bowing, and the look he flashed Yahaba was derisory at best. “I’m not that much of a dumbass.”

“No ball games allowed, you know,” Mitsuhana rasped, pointing to a notice on the wall. “You can’t play volleyball here.”

“We’re studying,” Yahaba explained, moving closer. “Shall I tell Mum you’re looking for her?”

“I’ll find her myself!” she grumbled and limped down the ramp leading to the back garden.

“She didn’t like Watari when he first came over. Or Iwaizumi-san.” Yahaba mused, tipping his head to one side.

“Bet she loved Oikawa, right?”

He laughed. “No, she thought his hair was too long and he couldn’t be trusted.” He tugged again on Kyoutani’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get a snack and then get down to it.”

He bustled them both along the corridor, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kyoutani taking everything in. Possibly he saw the wheelchair under the stairwell, or the signs written clearly and concisely, the handrails along the walls.

“Your parents manage this place, right? It’s a retirement home, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Mum manages. She’s the live-in nurse, too. Dad does some of the odd jobs and the books, but he also has a job at one of the local accountancy firms.” He slowed to pull out his key. “We’re here.”

Kyoutani, following Yahaba’s lead, toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket, then wandered into the kitchen, accepting a glass of milk as he sat at the table. He rolled his shoulder. The right one. And Yahaba’s brain clicked into overdrive.

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“Huh?” The hand, which had been about clasp the opposite shoulder, stopped mid move. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

“No, that’s the fourth time I’ve seen you do that today. What’s wrong?”

“Stiff, that’s all.” He slurped at the milk. “Can we get on with this?”

Changing the subject, and not very subtly, but Yahaba knew better than to press. He fetched some protein bars from the cupboard, read the note from his mum about the rice cooker, and then poured himself a drink too. “Show me the text you’re working on.”

It was poetry – a book Yahaba was familiar with, and one he adored—but from the look on Kyoutani’s face, he’d rather be facing the most complicated quantum-mechanic equations than sitting down to analyse the whims of words, however beautiful.

“Why do poets have to—” he began, then stopped as someone rapped loudly on the kitchen window.

The white hair and beaming smile of Hazawaki-san who lived on the third floor, jerked Yahaba’s attention away from the book. “Shigeru-chan! It’s lovely to see you. I brought something for you.”

He strode to the back door, opening it a little and bowed. “Brownies, how lovely. Thank you.”

She poked her head around the door, creasing up her eyes at Kyoutani. “My granddaughter is coming to stay in the summer, so I hope you’ll be around.”

“Volleyball permitting,” Yahaba said and let out a sigh. He accepted the plate, thanking her again and after another smile she tottered away.

Kyoutani snorted.

“Hey, I’m not going to turn down free brownies,” he said and placed the plate in front of them.

“Or her granddaughter?”

He stretched out his hand, covered Kyoutani’s then bent over and dropped a kiss on his earlobe, nipping a little. “She’s not bad-tempered enough,” he muttered.

‘Tap, tap tap’

“Oh fuck!”

Straightening up, he backed away from the table and strode again to the door, this time faced with one of the other neighbours, also carrying a plate and smiling benignly.

“More brownies?” Kyoutani asked as he made excuses and accepted the offering.

“Mmm.” He pulled a face, knowing they wouldn’t be good. “I forgot. Monday is cookery class day. I usually miss this parade of baked goods. We’ll be interrupted all afternoon if we stay here.” He grabbed a couple of the brownies. “Come on.”

“Hmm?”

“My room. There’s a blind, they won’t peep in.”

He closed the blind on the window looking out across the back, turned on the light, and gestured for Kyoutani to sit at his desk, while he flicked through the text book. “What were you going to say?” he asked. Kyoutani blinked at him, turning his attention away from the walls bedecked with volleyball posters. “About poets?”

“Oh… uh … why can’t they just say what they see? Why do they have to make everything so vague and airy-fairy. Like … I don’t mind reading novels, and stuff. And Japanese mythology stuff is kind of cool, but _poetry.”_ He screwed up his face as if drinking the bitterest of teas.

“You like the direct approach.”

“Yeah, like a plum is a fucking plum, right. It’s not my immortal fucking soul or whatever this twat’s talking about.”

“No subtlety right?”

“Ushiwaka blasting the ball gets a lot of points,” Kyoutani growled.

“Kunimi’s feints do pretty well too,” Yahaba whispered, and grinned. “Look, the plum is a plum, no one disputes that, but using it to symbolise immortality and beauty are as valid.”

“Why?”

“Because of the picture it paints. You can taste the fruit, even if it’s not there, because the words make your mouth water.”

“That’s just hunger because he mentions plums. He could write a poem about chicken nuggets and I’d salivate.”

Hitching his ass onto the top of the desk, Yahaba stroked Kyoutani’s temple, laughing when he ducked out of the unexpected caress. “You have no romance in your soul, Kentarou.”

“Maybe you have too much.”

“Hmm?”

“You overthink everything, specially now you’re Captain.” Pulling out his pencil case, he snatched back the text book from Yahaba and began to doodle in the margins. “So what do I say about the plum poem if it comes up?”

“First read the question.”

“Well, derr!”

“Hey, don’t mock. It’s the one thing sensei’s drilled into us because people waste time writing everything they know about the poem but they don’t gear it towards the answer.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “Not my problem. I don’t know anything, so it never takes long.”

He didn’t sound defeated, but there was a matter-of-factness to his tone that was utterly without humour.

“Can you—” Yahaba began, trying to stem the negativity.

“Shigeru,” he mumbled, “I’ve _never_ passed Literature. I’ve had to take the supplementary classes every year.”

Shifting off the desk, Yahaba reached to the bookshelf above, pulling down a file. “Doesn’t mean you’ll fail this time. Look, here are some of my essays. Maybe we could read through some of them, and you can see what you need to think about when you get a poetry question, okay?”

Kyoutani groaned something, but didn’t complain, and apart from a small scornful snort at how tidily Yahaba arranged his essays, he set down to read through the first one. He appeared to skim through the first page, then his eyes flicked back to the top, narrowing as he studied more carefully. To Yahaba it seemed he was taking it in, trying to uncover the secret, and yet even as he turned the page, there was a deeper crease to his brow and his pace slowed.

“How do you—” he began, then faltered. “How did you get that from _that_?”

“The poet’s a soldier, writing a letter home to his lover,” Yahaba replied, and pointed to a phrase he’d quoted. “He talks in the poem about the land he misses, the hills undulating before him, and he talks of fruit he wishes to taste. ‘Nothing is as ripe as the cherry unplucked.’” He snickered. “He wants to … uh … pluck her.”

“Why the fuck doesn’t he just say that!”

“He’s being subtle. He has to be.”

“Why? Oh!” His face cleared. “In case her Dad gets hold of the letter. Is that fence around the tree? Her Dad?”

“Yup.” Smiling, he reached over and touched Kyoutani’s hand. “See, you do know this. And a lot of it is open to interpretation, so just as long as you can prove your analysis by referring to the text, then you’re good.”

“Prefer it if he was straightforward. Like what if she had no idea what he was talking about and thought he was ignoring saying what he felt.” He wrinkled his nose, the sudden twitch rendering him far less angry-looking and somehow vulnerable, and Yahaba unable to stop himself squeezed his hand.

“Say you had to write me a letter, but you thought my parents might read it, what would you say?”

“I’d text.” He snorted. “‘C U after VB for another set.”

“Well, then I might turn up with Watari and Kindaichi. You’d have to be subtle for my parents, but insinuate enough so I get the message.

“Uh…” As he considered, Kyoutani’s upper lip protruded a little over his teeth, rendering him far less aggressive looking than usual.

“How about… ‘Can’t wait to spike your toss’.”

“Oh please!”

Undeterred Yahaba continued. “You’d know what I meant, but other people…” His fingers moved up Kyoutani’s arm, lingering at the hem of his rolled up shirtsleeve, “would interpret that literally.”

“Not if they knew us.” He tilted his head up, his chin grazing Yahaba’s wrist, and in the tiniest of movements, Kyoutani poked out his tongue and licked.

“Ugh, I can’t take you anywhere,” Yahaba said, making a pretence at disgust, but he didn’t move away.

“Hey, I’m wondering if the cherries are better unplucked,” Kyoutani replied, this time baring his teeth.

He meant to steer him gently back to studying, laugh this off with a promise for later, but Kyoutani swung the chair around and as his hand slid up Yahaba’s thigh, he was lost in the unexpected caress. Kyoutani wrapped his arms about Yahaba’s waist, pulling him closer, until he was off the desk, half on the chair, one foot on the floor. He bent down, touching his lips to Kyoutani’s mouth, loving how easily they parted, and the chuckle emanating from Kyoutani’s throat, which turned to a rasp, when Yahaba snaked his hand under his shirt.

His stomach tautened, abdominal muscles contracting under Yahaba’s palm. Kyoutani closed his eyes, moved his hand up to Yahaba’s neck and deepened the kiss, exploring and imploring for more.

“We should be studying,” Yahaba husked.

“Yeah.” Kyoutani pulled away slightly. “Where’s your mum?”

“Picking up medicine. She does it every Monday.” He paused, swallowed and leant in to whisper, “She won’t be back for ages.” Pulling on Kyoutani’s tie, he staggered backwards onto the bed, where they fell in a heap, legs entangled. Yahaba’s fingers began a frenzy of undoing Kyoutani’s shirt buttons, hoisting the shirt tails from his waistband to expose his chest, his back, his abdomen. Before Kyoutani could reciprocate, Yahaba pressed his lips to his stomach and began to kiss.

They’d been together close to two months, the days spent on snatched moments kissing after practice, and lazy Monday afternoons in the park, trips to the movies, or coffee shops. They’d kissed, but not like this. This was different. This time they were utterly private, utterly alone and the combination of these factors and Kyoutani’s closeness was sending Yahaba’s senses into a panicked overdrive.

Kyoutani groaned as Yahaba lapped and nuzzled at his warm skin, his tongue swirled over the taut muscles, and he smiled to himself sensing Kyoutani’s growing excitement and hopeful capitulation.

Then two hands grappled at his waist, tugging him upwards. “Come here,” Kyoutani rasped, and crushed his mouth to Yahaba’s lips.

“Don’t you want—” He slid his hand down Kyoutani’s thigh.

“You mean that? Only we haven’t—” He broke off as Yahaba palmed his groin. “Jeez! Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Why not?”

Not talkative at the best of times, Kyoutani needed no more words, and in an instant his hands were on Yahaba’s waistband, plucking at the button and zip, until his trousers were at his knees and Kyoutani was lying semi naked by his side. Kyoutani slid his hand down, grasped Yahaba’s cock and slowly began to move.

He might have imagined this before, dreamt of it fervidly (and sweatily), but the reality of Kyoutani’s actions, the sensations coursing through his body and the sheer desperation to prolong the experience, but to race to completion in case Kyoutani suddenly upped and left, propelled Yahaba to tipping point, and with a shudder, a gasp and a clenching of teeth, he came suddenly, collapsing onto Kyoutani’s shoulder.

 _Fuck that’s embarrassing,_ he thought, realising he’d been so caught up that Kyoutani had barely started. He mumbled an apology, but Kyoutani laughed, kissed him gently on the nose, and tousled his hair.

“Next time, I’ll take it slower,” he whispered, “but I couldn’t resist that. Your face!”

“Glad you found it amusing,” he grumped,

“Nah.” Placing his fingertips under Yahaba’s chin, he tilted his head upwards and stared into his eyes. “Wasn’t laughing. It turned me on. Even more I mean,” he muttered, and started to rub against him.

As Yahaba lowered his hand, his palm smoothed across Kyoutani’s stomach, and once again the muscles rippled. He kissed his chest, then nuzzled further. The breath hitched in Kyoutani’s throat, and spurred on, Yahaba mazed a path downwards. He took Kyoutani in his mouth.

_Now what?_

With no experience and only the theory in his head, Yahaba gave a tentative suck; then hearing a murmured ‘Jeez’ he took heart and continued. Kyoutani was writhing under him, his fingers tangled in Yahaba’s hair, back arching and falling as he kept pace. And as it occurred, somewhat belatedly, to Yahaba that he wasn’t sure exactly how he was supposed to finish this off, Kyoutani gave a guttural gasp, wrenched Yahaba off him, and climaxed.

He didn’t move, but lay flat on the bed eyes closed and panting as Yahaba shifted up the bed, lying on his side, not quite daring to touch, but staring down at the boy, who’d capitulated under his lips.

“Fuck me,” Kyoutani said at last. “Thought you had no experience?”

“I don’t!” he snapped.

Kyoutani opened his eyes and gave a smirk. “I know. But… that was …. gah.”

“Beginners luck, maybe,” Yahaba replied, hoping he sounded light and airy, when in reality his heart was thumping louder than a spike hitting the ground. Had that really just happened? Had they really done this?

“I’ve read some stuff,” he muttered.

“Does that mean Literature’s going to get interesting at last?”

“Ha ha, sadly not.” He reached out, traced Kyoutani’s collar bones then pressed his lips to his shoulder. “Was that really okay?” he mumbled. “I wasn’t … um … too … um…”

Inexperienced? He wanted to say. Or just plain awful?

“What do you want? A medal? Services to Blow Jobs?”

“Hey, don’t be mean!”

“Don’t fish,” Kyoutani whispered. He reached across, took Yahaba’s hand and kissed his palm. “It was fucking mind-blowing.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flamed. “Then, why did you… uh…” He chewed the side of his mouth. “I wasn’t hurting you, was I?”

Kyoutani frowned. “Huh?” Then, he blinked and his face cleared. “What, you mean me pulling away?” Yahaba nodded and stared at the bed. “Dumbass,” Kyoutani chided. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to … you know … have to finish it. Mind you, a split-second later and you’d have had no choice.”

So. What was supposed to happen now? A Deep and Meaningful? No, that wasn’t Kyoutani’s style at all. He’d probably scowl and stalk off if Yahaba attempted it. Back to studying? Mmm, maybe. That was the purpose of the afternoon. But how to get off the bed and go back to it? Was there an etiquette in this? He should let Kyoutani go to the bathroom first to clean up, shouldn’t he? And … they were both semi-naked and … Another wave of embarrassment hit him.

_Fuck, we really did it._

Kyoutani sprawled, his hands behind his head. “You know something, I’m totally relaxed now.”

“You are?”

Kyoutani peered at him. “What’s up?”

“What makes you think something’s up?”

“You’ve got your overthinking face on.” He frowned. “Is your Mum due back? Do you need me to leave?”

“No, no. I said she wouldn’t be back for a while, but … uh … should we … um …” He cleared his throat. “Want a drink or something?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He smiled. “Chilled, even if the guy I’m with is as antsy as … uh … an ants’ nest. What’s up? Are you sure you don’t want me to piss off now? I can go.”

Hearing an inflection of concern amongst the rapid fire of questions, Yahaba let out a sigh, and then lay down beside him, linking their fingers. “I’m chilled too. And no, I don’t want you to go.

“Good.” He slung his arm over Yahaba’s waist, inched closer, and began to kiss him again. Less passionate, less fevered than before, and with an unexpected gentleness. “Thanks.”

By the time Yahaba’s mum returned, Kyoutani had left. Out of the bedroom, he’d become gruff again, shuffling his feet on the floor, and couldn’t seem to leave fast enough once he’d made up his mind to go. But they’d enjoyed a long kiss goodbye, before he hurried out the door, careening past Hazawaki-san.

“Mitsuhana-san says you had a friend round,” his mum remarked, dumping the bags on the table. “Unpack the groceries will you? I need to double check these.”

“Mmm, sure.” He slugged at his water, wondering what she was going to ask, and his mind flashed to his bedroom. Had he left anything incriminating there? Did Kyoutani get fully dressed? What if he left his pants—

“Not ‘that nice boy Watari’ she said.” His mum laughed.

“It was… uh … Kyoutani.”

“Oh.” His mum paused checking through the medicines. “Kyoutani… Oh! Is that the boy you dislike?”

“What?”

“Or _did_ dislike? Wasn’t he the one who dropped out in his first year and then came back?” She tilted her head to the side, considering. “Yes, you were quite put out when he was brought back in, weren’t you?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess I was. He’s … um … changed.”

Well, not exactly. He was still unpredictable, moody and threatening, but …

“Or maybe I have,” he muttered and shrugged. “He’s a great player, and we kind of … um … get on okay now.”

“That’s good. And studying together? I don’t remember you saying he was in your Class.”

“He’s not, but I don’t want him having to attend supplementary lessons over summer.”

“Mmm. Of course not.” She smiled a little, keeping her eyes firmly on the medicine bag. “Very selfless of you, Shigeru-chan.”

“Talking of summer,” he spluttered, grasping for a change of subject.

“You were, yes,” she teased, then glanced at him and relented. “What about summer?”

“Well, as I’m captain, I’m supposed to organise some stuff, which I have, but we always have a summer party at the end of training camp and … um …” He winced. “Can I have it here?”

“Oh.”

“I know there’s quite a lot of us, but they’re not … um … rowdy. It’s the volleyball crowd so it’s not like we’re … uh … ‘hoodlums’. And we’ll clear up and—”

“When?”

“First weekend in August?”

But his mum was shaking her head. “That’s festival weekend, darling.”

Oh, yes. He remembered them going after Oikawa-san’s party. Watari had proved to be a good shot and won a huge cuddly bunny on the range.

His sighed. “You have the families here, don’t you?”

“Yes, and all the granddaughters _desperate_ to meet you,” she replied, but not mockingly. “Wouldn’t you like a good excuse not to be here?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, there’ll be too many people around. Another weekend, maybe?”

“Uh… okay. I’ll see.”

Another weekend. Kindaichi wasn’t the only boy who’d be going away with his family, and he couldn’t expect everyone to change their plans to accommodate the residential home.

“What about the park? Or maybe Aobajousai will let you hold a party there?”

“Mmm, maybe.”

But they wouldn’t. The rivalries between the other sports’ teams, particularly the tennis club meant school parties had to be coordinated and he knew the boys’ and girls’ baseball clubs had nabbed the playing fields for that weekend.

Ah, well. Something would turn up. He chewed his lip, making a mental note to ask Watari for ideas. Maybe he could arrange something else. It didn’t have to be a barbecue. They could go to the festival for the whole day instead. Or swimming might be fun.

“So you and Kyoutani,” his mum said, butting in on his thoughts. “Is it a regular thing?”

“What?!”

“Studying, I mean.” Her eyes were wide, but he could have sworn there was a sly upturn to her lips.

“He’s not doing well in Literature and English,” Yahaba replied, keeping his voice level. “I offered to help, that’s all.”

There was a pause, and then getting to her feet, his mum walked across to the fridge. “Dad will be late home tonight, so it’s just you and me for dinner.”

He huffed out a sigh, relieved she’d changed the subject.

“Give us time for a good chat, eh?” she said, her eyes twinkling.


	2. a little bruised and wilting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt: 
> 
> “Don’t worry about it,” Watari replied after a beat. “He’s got a reason to do well now, and the one thing we’re all agreed on about Mad Dog, is that he does not like to lose!”
> 
> But sometimes, as they all knew, there was no choice because on the day anyone could underperform, or play out of their skin. 
> 
> He stared at the petals still in his hand, except they weren’t petals at all but tiny flowers from a lilac tree, a little bruised and wilting, but still holding their form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all going so well... far too well.

Kindaichi had changed his hair. Instead of spiking it so he looked like a shallot, it was now curled around his face, rendering the Middle Blocker shorter than Watari. He looked angry, too, as if his new haircut was Yahaba’s fault and brandished a lobster in front of their faces.

“Is this a challenge?” Kyoutani sneered, and pulled out a swordfish.

“No!” Yahaba tried to shout, but his vocal chords didn’t appear to work. “You can’t fight. We have a match tomorrow and—” He stretched out, grasping Kyoutani at the waist, and pulled him back. But his stomach felt doughy and soft, his muscles wasting to nothing as Kindaichi approached.

“AGHHHH!”

Jerking awake, his whole body sweating, Yahaba discovered that the Kyoutani he was clutching was in fact his pillow. They weren’t at the festival. They weren’t anywhere. No one was here except Yahaba and he was in his bedroom. It was three thirty in the morning, and, with a groan, he realised he’d had around one hour’s sleep, having fretted long after he’d gone to bed. 

And it was dumb to angst so much over a location for a party. He knew Kyoutani would roll his eyes and Watari laugh, but … he was captain and the whole shadow of Oikawa didn’t just darken his path every time he led the team onto court, but, it now seemed, off court too.

He tried to remember what he’d been like last year, before Captaincy had loomed. Freer, maybe, without the responsibility dragging on his shoulders. Able to take things lightly because it was the easy path, it was no wonder Kyoutani had accused him of being shallow. And maybe he’d been happier, but then he’d known he had to step up, and the one thing holding him back had always been that knot of insecurity about his game.

A knot which seemed to have expanded and tightened about his relationships now.

He’d texted Kyoutani goodnight after dinner, but had had no reply. Probably there was a good reason, but there was also the possibility that Kyoutani found his inexperience laughable and had decided to call it quits. And what with his mum’s probing last night, he’d felt incredibly twitchy when finally turning the lights off.

 _Why am I such an idiot?_ He stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember everything Kyoutani had said that afternoon. Had he missed something, some nuance to his words which would have explained this silence? He normally sent something, even if it was only to say he’d be delayed for the morning session.

Shit it was four. He had to get up in three hours. He had to sleep. He had to sleep. He had to –

**< <UR probably asleep. Phone died on me, but thanx for this afternoon>>**

_Oh!_

Hamfistedly he typed back. _< < I’m awake. Why aren’t you asleep?>>_

**< <brothers ill Y U awke>>**

_< <thinking about stuff.>>_

**< <typical.>>**

_< <yeah>>_

**< <Im gonna have to take sis to school so will be late 2 practice.>>**

<< _sure. What’s wrong with your brother_?>>

**< <asthma…>>**

_Kyoutani is typing_ appeared on the screen, but no message came up, and after waiting for another ten minutes, Yahaba assumed Kyoutani had fallen back to sleep.

_Beep_

**< <sorry about that. They’ve taken him to hospital>> **

_< <OMG it’s that serious>>_

**< <he’s two so, yeah, it can be. Once they get him there he’ll be fine>> **

_< <is your sister alright?>>_

**< <she sleeps through everything. Im going to try and sleep now. Cu tmrw>> **

_< <you mean today>>_

**< <yeah, alright smartarse>>**

_< <hope he gets better soon>>_

**< <mmm, thanx>>**

Fears alleviated, he drifted off after that, hoping Kyoutani caught some sleep too, and giggled at the thought of Kindaichi with a lobster. 

He was yawning during morning practice and his movements were definitely on the sluggish side. Kyoutani made it for the last forty five minutes, stretched a little and joined them for receive practise, rolling his shoulders with a wince as he settled into his stance.

“Is your shoulder still bothering you?” Yahaba asked a little later in the changing room.

“Just stiff. Laid on it awkwardly and had to carry Micchan’s bag as she was being a brat,” he grouched.

“Okay. How’s your brother?”

“Staying in for a bit. Sister’s going to a friend’s so I can make afternoon practise.”

“That’s not why I was asking,” Yahaba murmured. Kyoutani, eyes red from lack of sleep, in a crumpled shirt and askew blazer, had the look of a permanently harassed teacher. He reached across, neatened the blazer collar and brushed two white petals from his shoulder.

“Get off!” Kyoutani scolded, but not _that_ grumpily.”You’re not my mom.”

“Are you all right?”

Sidestepping away, Kyoutani mumbled, “Can we leave this ‘til later? I’ve got this fucking test to take.”

“Sure…” But he was talking to dead air as Kyoutani had broken into a run to get away from the gym.

“Had a row?” Watari murmured, coming up to Yahaba’s side.

“No. He has a test.”

“And he’s in a hurry to get to it?” Watari laughed. “Your influence is strong, Yahaba-sensei.” He glanced sideways. “Hey, he’ll be okay. It’s just a practise test, isn’t it?”

“He’s had to take supplementary classes each year.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Watari replied after a beat. “He’s got a reason to do well now, and the one thing we’re all agreed on about Mad Dog, is that he does not like to lose!”

But sometimes, as they all knew, there was no choice because on the day anyone could underperform, or play out of their skin.

He stared at the petals still in his hand, except they weren’t petals at all but tiny flowers from a lilac tree, a little bruised and wilting, but still holding their form.

He had a free before lunch—a supposed study period while they waited for guidance talks with the counsellor. With his maths book open, Yahaba settled down to start his homework, but such was the heat of the day and the fact his desk was next to the window, he couldn’t concentrate, instead letting his thoughts drift to volleyball and the ensuing training camp.

He’d always liked the summer training sessions at Aobajousai. Another chance to get together as a team, work out who played well together, whose edges needed sanding down, and whose needed sharpening in order to complement each other. Under Oikawa’s Captaincy, Yahaba had been restricted to the sidelines as a player, but he’d never felt out of the team after Oikawa had asked him to put his ‘undoubted observational skills’ to use. And perhaps Oikawa-san was just being kind, but he’d had a way of making everyone feel as if they were important to the squad.

He’d had the confidence to be able to do that, of course, confidence that Yahaba found himself lacking as he floundered to lead his way. Even burning burgers at the barbecue, and having to buy ramen for everyone after they’d lost, hadn’t taken the shine off Oikawa’s crown. At times, Yahaba felt as if Oikawa had set an impossibly high bar, one he had no hope of getting over, however hard he practised or honed his social skills.

_Oh god, the team barbecue. What am I going to do?_

It wasn’t like they could go to the park and set up there. Festival weekend meant it would be packed. Maybe Little Tykes. But we’re there all the time, so it’s hardly different, and they’re not going to let us set up a barbecue.

He groaned and gazed out of the window.

“Aww, lovestruck?”

Huh?

“Yahaba and Mad Dog sittin’ in a tree…” chimed Asanuma, a girl who always wore very tight, high braids and seemed addicted to being cute. “K I S S—actually more like Playing Volleyball.”

“For all to see!” finished Hatano, her shriek of a laugh making everyone jump.

It was light-hearted, even if they did seem to treat Yahaba as their pet project, and to show he took no offence, Yahaba smiled at the two girls, then focused back on his homework.

Then one of the boys sitting near the front, interrupted. “My cousin’s in Kyoutani’s class.”

Looking up, Yahaba caught a curl to his lip, but he gave him a bland smile in return. “How nice for him, Saito.”

“Says Mad Dog’s always in a strop. Very easy to wind up.”

“Oooh, is that why you leurve him,” Hatano giggled. “Is he a bad boy?”

“What do you think?” He yawned and switched off his smile, hoping they got the hint and left him alone.

“Well I think that opposites obviously attract, Yahaba-kun,” she replied and laughed some more. “Can’t get that much more opposite, can you?”

 _Ignore them. Ignore them. Ignore them_ , he chanted to himself through gritted teeth. Bending down to his bag, he pulled out his phone and headphones, intending to plug himself into his music and drown out the gossip which was veering away from teasing and into nastiness.

“Class one,” Saito continued and began to laugh. “There’s a word for people like you.”

“Really?”

Just then, the music blared on through his earbud, so loud he jerked it out of his ear.

“—sexual,” Saito finished.

“Well, derr. It’s not a secret,” Yahaba scorned, adding haughtily. “Seeing Kyoutani-kun has merely confirmed it.”

“So _that’s_ why you like him?” Asanuma blinked. “Wow.”

“Yes. Otherwise I’d obviously fancy you, wouldn’t I?” He shook his head and succeeded in starting the music again.

The bell went. Shoving his books in his bag Yahaba headed straight for the door, scowling a little as he careened through the throng. He kept a look out for Kyoutani, twisting around as he passed Class One, but the room was empty, the test clearly enabling them to finish early. And there was no sign of him queuing in the cafeteria either, so Yahaba picked up his pace as he headed to the gym.

Had he done okay on the test? Yeah, it was only a practise, but it would boost Kyoutani’s confidence for the real thing if he had a decent result under his belt, a way in to answer the incomprehensible questions. They’d studied, though so it should be okay…

Except, they hadn’t studied much at all.

(He blushed.)

And although he’d bundled up past essays for Kyoutani to look through, he’d also been awake most of the night with his brother.

Skipping past Watari who was meandering with Ishigawa. There was a shout from her, but he gave a back wave and then sped up.

Kyoutani was sitting on the steps of the gym. Changed into his kit, Yahaba first thought he was sitting there waiting for him and was oddly touched. He gave a smile as he approached, tentative in case it wasn’t good news.

“Hey!” he called. “How’s things?”

Kyoutani glared at him.

_Oh._

“Ah, test not go well? I’m sure it’ll be okay. And we have a fortnight until—”

“Bet you’re fucking happy about it!”

“Huh?”

He got up, took a pace towards Yahaba. His expression menacing, not only his customary scowl but a snarl to his mouth, and something else flaring in his eyes that tore away at Yahaba’s breath.

“Kentarou…” He spoke gently, reaching out to take his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Get the fuck off me,” he seethed, and thrust Yahaba from him. “And don’t … don’t come near me again! Just – I thought you were different!” With no more words, his face purple, he picked up his kitbag, throwing it in Yahaba’s direction, yelped and then tried to storm away.

“No.” Yahaba grabbed his arm. “What is this? What’s happened?” He shook him. “Talk to me!”

“Do you know what it’s like, Yahaba- _san,”_ he spat, “knowing that the one thing you hate about yourself is something people laugh at? Don’t take it seriously, but mock you? Do you know?” His voice raised, and a couple of first years who were in the gym, poked their heads through the door before popping back inside. “Of course you fucking don’t! It’s all so fucking sweet for you, right?”

“Kyoutani!”

Both whipped their heads round. Mizoguchi stood in the doorway, jacket over his arm. “With me.”

For a moment, Yahaba thought Kyoutani was going to refuse. Both hands had furled into fists, but as Mizoguchi stepped closer, he let out a sigh, twisted away from Yahaba and bent down to pick up his bag.

“Irihata-san’s in a staff meeting. Yahaba take the session,” Mizoguchi ordered and clapped his hand around Kyoutani’s shoulders, steering him away from the confrontation.

“Sensei! I’m sure we can sort this out!” Yahaba shouted after them.

Pausing, Mizoguchi stared at Kyoutani, nodded his head, and continued to walk. “Take the session, Yahaba-kun. You know what to do,” he shouted back over his shoulder.

He watched them go, watched the slump in Kyoutani’s posture, his eyes firmly on the ground, Mizoguchi clearly guiding him away. Something had happened, something monumental, and it looked for all the world as if Kyoutani was about to be cut from the team and the squad, defeat confining his body like a strait jacket.

“What’s happened?” Watari demanded, running up to him.

“I…I … I don’t know.” He twisted around, spotted the two first years and called out to them. “Hey, what’s been going on? Was there a fight? Did—” he faltered, not wanting to voice the question, to ask if Kyoutani had lost it, and why.

“Um…” Gensai switched from foot to foot. “We didn’t _see_ anything.”

“But?” Watari questioned.

Hattori bit his lip. “We were getting changed. Kyoutani-san was already practising serves. He was yelling and … um … Mizoguchi-san started to shout back. Then… um …”

“It went quiet,” muttered Gensai.

“Good quiet or bad quiet?” Yahaba demanded.

“I dunno… just … uh …” Gensai shrugged. “Quiet.”

“Was Mizoguchi— OW!”

He glared at Watari who’d kicked him. “Don’t interrogate them,” Watari muttered.

“Huh?”

“They’re first years. They don’t need to be panicking over whatever mess Kyoutani’s got himself into now.” He glowered, and pushed Yahaba to the side and out of earshot. “Or whatever you’ve dropped him into.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t _know_ what’s happened,” Watari warned. “But Ishigawa-kun overheard something, and from the look she gave you…” He sucked in his breath.

“I’ve done nothing!” Yahaba protested.

But now wasn’t the time to debate. With more of the first years scurrying inside, and the second years approaching at a more leisurely pace, Yahaba had a session to lead. Shoving whatever had got Kyoutani’s pants in a twist this time, (and ignoring Watari’s warning about Ishigawa) he hurried inside to get changed. And the session was fruitful, not least because Yahaba found himself able to focus and not let his thoughts drift.

 _Ha! See I don’t overthink at all!_ He muttered under his breath and threw his kit back in the bag. _And whatever Kyoutani’s pissed off about, it has bugger all to do with me!_

“Yahaba-san.”

“What?” he snapped, glaring at the voice, blinking only a little when he saw it was Kindaichi towering over him.

“About the barbecue…”

“Really? This is what you need to talk to me about? In case it had escaped your notice, we were without both coaches and our Ace today, and yet we still had a good session. But sure, ask me some crap about a barbecue!”

“Uh … oh-kay.” He took a step back, holding his hands palms up as if in supplication. “It was … um … just a suggestion, but…. Ah, it doesn’t matter. We can talk another time.”

The last words were mumbled, and the giant of the Seijou team suddenly appeared slouched and small, staring at his feet and wringing his hands. And from somewhere, Yahaba heard a click of a tongue and he knew it was Watari.

Oh fuck. Despite knowing him for a year, snapping at Kindaichi was still like kicking a puppy. “What suggestion?” Yahaba asked, voice softer now.

After all, maybe Kindaichi was offering his house as a venue, which would certainly solve his other problem.

“We could all contribute to the food,” Kindaichi offered. “I know Oikawa-san bought all the meat and everything, but it would be fairer if…” He trailed off, his cheeks began to suffuse with a blush.

 _Because I’m clearly not rich like Oikawa._ He waved his hand. “Yep, good idea. I’ll put a list up. I’ll get back to you to you all very soon about details.”

As Kindaichi nodded and headed back to his locker, Watari joined him on the bench. “You know, we don’t have to have a barbecue. All they need is let off a bit of steam after training camp.”

“Still need a place to have it, though. I can’t at my place and cinema won’t cut it.”

“Stop stressing. We can head to the park.”

“It’s Festival weekend.” He let out a groan.

“We’ll find somewhere.” Clapping him on the back, Watari stood up and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Concentrate on making up with Kyoutani instead.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Stung, Yahaba yelled, and Watari turned away.

“Then why isn’t he here? And why were you acting like we’d lost five games on the spin to Karasuno in our session?”

“Huh? That … that was an exemplary session,” he protested. “Everyone got a good work out and we were looking sharp. No one complained!”

“Because you scared them all shitless!” Watari sighed and sat back down. “Clearly something’s going on and you don’t have to talk to me about it, but you must sort it out with Mad Dog, or it’ll drive you both nuts.”

“Shinji, I genuinely have no idea what’s happened,” he said. “I’ll talk to him, but he clams up and …. Can you ask Ishigawa what she knows? I just … I need a head start on this before I tackle him, or we’ll end up running in circles again.”

He heaved out a sigh. “She’s doing her mentoring thing with the Middle School kids, so it’ll be later, all right?”

“Yes, fine. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Was it really a shit session?”

Chuckling, Watari slapped Yahaba on the back of his head. “It was _intense_. At one point I thought you were channelling our senpai.”

“Oikawa?” he asked, perking up.

“No, Iwaizumi-san. At his most intimidating.”

“Wow!”

“Uh, that’s not good, Yahaba-kun. The first years think you’re Godzilla about to stomp them into the ground.”

He ate his lunch on the steps again, stretching out his legs in the sun, while keeping a look out for Mizoguchi and a recalcitrant Kyoutani, but neither of them appeared, so he locked up when the bell went and meandered back to his classroom for the afternoon.

It was during geography (his least favourite subject) when Watari messaged him. Sensei had his back to the classroom, so Yahaba reached into his pocket to check his phone.

**< <you really are a dumbass. Not surprised he’s pissed at you.>>**

_< <???>>_

**< <he overheard your conversation with your class.>>**

_< <And?>> _

What was the problem? He’d only confirmed he was seeing Kyoutani. So why would that cause so much rage?

**< <Jeez. Don’t you ever think before opening your mouth? Even if you didn’t know he was there, it’s a f*cking rude thing to say.>>**

_< <WHAT DID I SAY>>_

**< < He heard everything. I’m pissed at you too!>>**

Huh? In a daze, he didn’t realise the room had gone deathly quiet and rapidly began to type out his message.

_< <I don’t know what—_

A hand swooped down, snatching his phone from his hands.

“You know the rules. No phones in my class. Twenty-four hours confiscation.”

“No, no, sorry, sensei. I need my phone. I need—”

“How do you think we managed before these contraptions were invented?” Sensei barked. “I’ll give you a clue. We talked, or wrote letters. Or in some cases used the telephone. And none of those things happened during a Geography lesson, so concentrate on the work in hand and count yourself lucky I’m not giving you detention!”

And with that, he placed Yahaba’s phone into his briefcase and snapped it shut.

 _What did I say?_ He stared at his book, not taking in a word as he rethought the earlier conversation. But however much he ruminated on it, he couldn’t recall just what he’d said to not only cause Kyoutani’s hackles to rise, but also to have got Watari riled too. There’d been some banter. Kissing in a tree, and they’d laughed at him about opposites attracting but … _that’s just a dumb cliché and not an insult._

_Bollocks. I can’t even text him now to find out what the fuck’s going on. He must have misheard!_

Unless … what had Saito said? ‘There’s a word for people like you.’

Yeah, I’m gay. So’s Kyoutani.

 _‘The one thing you hate about yourself!’_ he’d spat at Yahaba.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

What the fuck does that mean for us?

Gritting his teeth so hard he got jaw ache, Yahaba stormed out of his class as soon as the bell went for end of day, and hurried towards Class 1. But somehow, Kyoutani had got out of there before he’d arrived. Three of the girls from that class started to whisper and snicker behind their hands when they saw him, but he ignored them, knowing their opinion of Kyoutani, and by association him, was not worth paying any attention to.

He stopped a short boy, one he vaguely recognised from the baseball team, but couldn’t remember his name. “Has Kyoutani left already?”

“Kyoutani?” The boy appeared to think. “He wasn’t in this afternoon.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Uh, yeah. I sit two away from him, and he wasn’t in.” He stared at Yahaba. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m volleyball captain!” Yahaba retorted.

“Are you?” He shrugged before barging past. “’Scuse me, I’ve got practise.”

Watari rolled his eyes when he saw him, and continued his conversation with the new first year Libero. Turning his back, Yahaba approached Irihata instead, intending to broach the subject of Kyoutani. And he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, whether he’d make up an excuse for Kyoutani’s absence, or simply ask if the Coach knew what was going on.

“Ah, Yahaba-kun. Thank you for earlier.”

“Uh…”

“Lunchtime session,” Irihata explained. “Pesky staff meetings keep overrunning, so thank you for stepping up to the plate when Mizoguchi had to leave too.”

“Um, oh, that’s fine, sensei. I was happy to … um… I think it went well,” he finished, ignoring Watari’s statement that he’d been Godzilla.

“You’ll be pleased to know there’s nothing seriously wrong with Kyoutani.”

“Pardon?”

“Couple of days’ rest, that’s all,” Irihata continued. “So, he’ll be fine for the practice match at the weekend.”

“Uh… good… good.”

“Tell him to use the time off to study, Yahaba-kun. I’d like the _whole_ team available for the _whole_ of Summer training.”

“Sure.”

Watari was still avoiding his eye, but as he headed into the gym, he brushed past and growled out a question. “Don’t want to talk to me then?”

“What?”

“You didn’t reply to my messages. Couldn’t think of an excuse? Honestly, I knew you could be a bit of a pratt, but I thought you’d have a bit more loyalty to your boyfriend! ”

“My phone was confiscated,” Yahaba hissed. “That’s why I didn’t reply and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to have said or done that was so bad.”

“Really?” Watari’s dubious expression slowly melted into bewilderment. “Uh … do you mean that?”

With a quick glance at Irihata, who was scolding one of the first years for his grubby kit, Yahaba pulled Watari to one side. “I don’t know what Kyoutani and Ishigawa overheard, or what they thought they overheard, but I haven’t said anything bad about him at all. Some of the girls were teasing me about having a boyfriend, but that’s all. It was banter. I thought Kyoutani was fine with people knowing about us. Saito got a bit mouthy, I guess, but …” He chewed his fingernail. “Please, I wasn’t listening most of the time, so I don’t know what I’ve done. Just tell me.”

“Oh… Saito. Yeah, that makes sense.” Watari took a small step back. “Um, look, what Ishigawa told me is that someone—I guess that was Saito—started laughing and said you were morosexual, and then you agreed and… Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Morosexual? What?”

_Not Homosexual._

“Yeah, so you can understand why Kyoutani’s pissed off, right. Not nice to hear your boyfriend saying that—”

“Watacchi,” he pleaded. “I never said that. I don’t even know what that means!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you're enjoying the story. Last chapter will be soon!


	3. is this an unplucked cherries metaphor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Excerpt
> 
> In the back room leading out to a sprawling expanse of garden, four fluffy puppies were wriggling over each other. They scampered up to Kyoutani as he walked in, then stopped to sniff at Yahaba’s shoes, yelping a little. 
> 
> “I thought there were eight of them.”
> 
> “Four have gone to new homes,” Kyoutani muttered. “Three are going at the weekend.” He bent down and scooped the smallest and fluffiest into his arms. “We’re keeping him.”
> 
> “Ooh, that’s cool. It’s what you wanted right?” No reply except a grunt. “What are you going to call him?”
> 
> “Was thinking Yahaba because of his dumb hair, but he’s not that much of a shit head.”
> 
> Ouch.

The driver called out as they approached the stop, and calling out his thanks, Yahaba hotfooted it off the bus landing on a dusty track rather than a pavement. He’d not been to Kyoutani’s house before, but a few things were familiar: a gnarled branch, the stream, and then there was the lilac tree, scattering tiny cream flowers in the breeze.

The house at the end of the track was old and large. A former farmhouse perhaps, with a crumbling stone wall at the boundary and a patchy lawn that needed mowing. Yahaba stared at the door for a while, and thought about turning back, but just then he noticed a girl throwing a ball for a dog. She was short, about seven or eight years old, with hair escaping from braids and wearing an outfit comprised entirely of pink.

“Michiko-kun?” he called out. “Hi.”

“Huh?” She whipped across to him, grinning widely, and ran to open the gate. “Yahaba-san! Have you come to see Nii-san?”

“Yep. Is he in?”

“Um.” She twisted her head to the side, tapped her chin and in a ‘grown up’ voice, replied, “I need to check his diary, but I’m sure he is.” Then she giggled. “Have you met Dango?”

“No, but I’ve seen lots of pictures.”

“Mummy says she needs a break away from the puppies,” she replied, with some authority. “They tire her out.”

“Your Mum’s in? I heard your little brother was in hospital.”

Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Oh, yes.” Her mouth drooped a little. “He was, but he’s out now. NII-SAAAAAN!”

“You don’t need to—”

“What?” A window opened on the first floor. “Oh. It’s you.”

“It is.” Yahaba tried to smile, but his mouth had become unaccountably wobbly and his words seemed stuck in his throat. “Can I talk to you?”

He looked as if he were about to slam the window, but instead he shrugged. “S’pose so.”

“You must come in and have lemonade,” Michiko said and grabbed Yahaba’s hand.

“Micchan, leave him alone.”

But she ignored her brother and dragged Yahaba inside, yelling to her mom that they had a visitor.

Harried with hair drooping around her face, a woman appeared from the kitchen. Her eyes were small and amber, but that was the only resemblance to her son. In her arms she carried a small child, Kyoutani’s half-brother, he assumed.

“We’re not really up to guests right now,” she began to say, then faltered. “Oh, you’re from Kentarou’s team. Is it Yahaba? ”

“Um, yes,” he replied, surprised.

“I’ve seen a photo,” she explained. “Have you brought him some schoolwork? That’s very kind of you.”

“Sort of. I just wanted a word with him, but obviously this is a bad time and … It doesn’t matter. I’ll see him at school.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Hoisting her son onto her hip, she gave him a small kiss on the forehead. “Apologies for the state of the place. We’ve been rather occupied with other things.”

“Yes, I really should be the one apologising. Kyoutani told me you’d been to the hospital. I didn’t think.”

“’Lo.” Kyoutani stood in the doorway, scowling and with his arms folded across his chest. Dressed in casual clothes, he’d clearly been home for a while. “What do you want?”

“Yahaba-kun’s brought you some homework,” his mom said, and frowned at her son. “That’s kind of him coming all this way, _isn’t_ it, Kentarou?”

“He’s in Class 4,” Kyoutani retorted, as if that explained everything, and jerked his head towards the back garden. “We can talk outside.”

“Take the pups out with you.”

“’K.” He side-eyed Yahaba. “This way.”

In the back room leading out to a sprawling expanse of garden, four fluffy puppies were wriggling over each other. They scampered up to Kyoutani as he walked in, then stopped to sniff at Yahaba’s shoes, yelping a little.

“I thought there were eight of them.”

“Four have gone to new homes,” Kyoutani muttered. “Three are going at the weekend.” He bent down and scooped the smallest and fluffiest into his arms. “We’re keeping him.”

“Ooh, that’s cool. It’s what you wanted right?” No reply except a grunt. “What are you going to call him?”

“Was thinking Yahaba because of his dumb hair, but he’s not that much of a shit head.”

_Ouch._

“Irihata told me you’d been sent home, but you’d be okay?” he opened with, a little tentatively. “I … had no idea you were ill.”

“Pick two of them up, will you. Need to carry them down the steps.” Opening the door, he scooped up another pup. “I’m fine. My neck hurt and I miss hit a serve. Mizoguchi-san was watching and took me off court.”

“And?”

“’Cuz that’s all that matters, right?” He rolled his eyes, then sighed. “Yeah, Captain, it’ll be fine. Seems I’ve trapped a nerve and he took me to see a physio. Then he drove me home. You’re going to say I should have texted, but I was too mad at the time. And I’m tired, all right!”

“Wouldn’t have done any good. My phone’s been confiscated.”

“Huh?”

“Geography with Ito-san. Watari was texting me about what had happened and—”

“Idiot. Even a dumb fuck like me knows not to text in his class.”

“You’re not dumb,” Yahaba started to say but was quelled by a Kyoutani meeting his eyes for the first time. He looked away. “Anyway, after yelling at me quite a lot, Watari explained in person and … um … I’m not surprised you’re angry.”

“He texted before you got here.”

“Did he explain?”

He shook his head. “Only I should hear you out.” He inhaled, steadying himself, and his shoulders untensed a touch. “I get that to you lot it was a joke, and maybe you don’t think it matters, that I’m overreacting, just … it’s not funny when you’re the one being laughed at, so yeah, I’m angry.”

Picking up two of the pups, one of which settled happily and licked his face, while the other wriggled, Yahaba followed him into the garden, negotiating the rough stone steps.

“I didn’t say what you think I did.”

Kyoutani pressed his lips together so they settled into a narrow red line. He sat on the ground, releasing both puppies. “Nah, it was that Saito shithead. But you agreed with him. Everyone started laughing – do you know what that’s like, overhearing that. You can’t take it back, not now.”

“I was tuning him out and listening to music because he’s such a dick and ....” Sitting opposite, he placed the smallest puppy on the grass, where it began to paw at Yahaba’s shoe.

“True though. What’s to argue about? I’m thick, you’re not. And, you know, Ishigawa-kun was there and it’s so fucking humiliating, even if it’s just a joke.” He clutched his head and curled into his knees. There was a loud sniff and then he started to speak again. “She’s great, you know. She started talking loudly to drown you lot out, but in my head I’m thinking maybe that’s the reason you came on so strong yesterday. Because why else would you… we’ve not …”

“Kyoutani!”

“What?” he mumbled.

“I didn’t _hear_ what Saito said because I was stressing over that stupid barbecue, and even if I had, I didn’t know what morosexual meant. And look, if I had heard and understood, I’d have denied and denied maybe punched him, because it’s not true. Not at all.”

Kyoutani pulled a face. “I am stupid.”

“No, you’re not.” He shuffled over, touching Kyoutani’s hand. “And even if it were, that’s not the reason I’m seeing you. Please believe me.”

“So why did you pounce yesterday? Like, we’ve snogged a lot, but that’s it, and then suddenly you’re all over me and …”

_Your shirt rode up. It was your muscles. Oh gods!_

“Uh… proximity?” Yahaba squeaked, his face flushing.

Kyoutani’s head snapped up. “What?”

“No one was at home, and …. um … you’re … uh … hot.”

“Really?” He looked at Yahaba with suspicion, eyes narrowing. “We’ve been alone before.”

“Not in a bedroom,” Yahaba replied, but he could hear the thinness in his voice and knew he was fooling no one.

“Or maybe it was because I couldn’t interpret that shitty poem and that turned you on,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “How are you going to keep your hands off me when I screw up every fricking test?” Shoving Yahaba away, he picked up one of the pups and headed out to the centre of the lawn, whistling for the others who gambolled after him.

“Stomach muscles,” Yahaba yelled, then cringed and hurriedly ran after Kyoutani.

“What?”

He’d caught up to him, ran in front of Kyoutani and forced him to look into his eyes. His face burned. “It’s embarrassing and I don’t know if there’s a word for this, but it was your abs. They … they turn me on. And your back muscles. Just … muscles. Your muscles.”

“Huh?” He screwed up his face as he thought about it, his lips pouting out. “Back muscles! That’s so fricking dumb.”

“That’s not _why_ I’m after you, but I hope it explains yesterday.” Yahaba leant forwards, pecking his lips to Kyoutani’s mouth, who taken by surprise didn’t immediately shove him away, and gave a soft kiss back.

“And you have this thing when you think,” Yahaba muttered, “where your top lip protrudes and it’s just … so perfect for kissing and…” He went in for another kiss, but this time Kyoutani turned away.

“Don’t get soppy on me,” he mumbled. “And not here.”

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t think.” He stepped back, almost tripping on a puppy, over balanced and landed on his arse.“Your family are inside and … wow … sorry.”

“They know I’m gay, if that’s what you’re babbling about.” He reached across looked as if he were about to haul Yahaba to his feet, but thought better of it and sank to the grass. “Just not that …” He peeped at Yahaba from under his stubby lashes and swiftly looked away. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Present tense,” Yahaba muttered, swallowing. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again.”

“You’re here, aren’t you? I’ve not punched your lights out and that dumbass puppy seems to like you too.” He stroked the puppy’s fur, fluffing it up on its forehead, then paused. “How did you get here?”

“Bus.”

“Well, derr, but I’m not that near the stop. Did you get lost?”

He shook his head. “I recognised some things.”

“Huh?”

“The tree your sister sits in—you showed me that picture. Then the one of Dango paddling in the stream. And your lilac tree.”

“What?”

“You had flowers from it on your blazer yesterday.”

“Quite the detective, aren’t you?” He gave a small, tight smile, the barely noticeable one he gave when a teammate’s shot had impressed him.

Yahaba grinned. “I also googled it and printed out a map at school.”

Kyoutani kicked him. “Twat.”

“I did recognise the tree, though. How long have you lived here?”

“Uh, two years. Just after Tooru was born.”

“Who?” Yahaba started to laugh. “Your brother’s called Tooru!”

“Yes, yes, very funny. Don’t you dare tell Oikawa! Bastard’ll think it’s his influence.” He got up and immediately the four puppies came running to his feet. “Come on, they need a bit of exercise.”

“It’s big,” Yahaba said, staring out at the horizon.

“It’s … what’s that phrase Irihata’s always saying about the team? ‘A work in progress’. House was a real dump when they bought it. Mom and Ossan have done most of the work,” he added softly, and there was a note of pride in his voice.

“Is your step-dad a builder?”

“Huh… oh no, he designs websites or something.”

They started to stroll, Kyoutani with his hands in his pockets, eyes constantly on the puppies.

Crouching down, he tickled one of the pups behind the ears. “What’s the problem with the barbecue?”

“Oh … nothing.”

“Must be something.”

“Think it’s sorted now,” he lied. “I can’t have it at home.”

“No ball games and no ‘hoodlums’, right?”

“More a clash with a families’ weekend. So I was thinking we could go to the beach. What do you reckon?”

“I’m sure Kindaichi will lug the barbecue for you. That boy has to have his grilled corn!”

There was a pause. Kyoutani picked at some grass, watching as the pup joined its littermates.

“Will you come along?” Yahaba asked. “You could go jogging or something if it all got too much for you.”

He screwed up his face. “It’s not really my thing,” Kyoutani muttered. “But I’ll think about it.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know.” He took in a breath, feeling the tension he’d held all day release as he exhaled.

“Kentarou!” His mum stood in the doorway.

“Yeah.”

“Is Yahaba-kun staying for dinner? We have plenty.”

“Uh… do you want to?”

“Do _you_ want me to?”

“No skin off my nose—” His growl reminiscent of the early days when he’d first returned to the team, a wariness in his eyes, which Yahaba now recognised as discomfort rather than downright antagonism. But then he sighed. “If you can put up with my pratt of a step-dad pretending he’s interested in volleyball, then stay.”

“Kentarou?” She was walking towards them.

“Up to you,” Kyoutani muttered.

Yahaba smiled at her. “I’d love to, thank you, Kyoutani-san … Oh! Sorry.”

She smiled back, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “I’m Arakawa-san now. Dinner will be half an hour. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Rolling his eyes, Kyoutani let out a groan. “Not even the least subtle.”

“She doesn’t mind?”

“No, probably wetting herself over the fact you look like a ‘nice boy’,” Kyoutani mocked.

“Could be worse.”

“Yeah, I know.” He let out a sigh. “Dad just ignores the subject, you know. Not sure if that’s better than him yelling.”

“My parents were very ‘understanding’,” Yahaba replied, “but it’s like they’ve read a handbook or something, and they’re expecting it to be a phase. Or, even worse, they keep trying to have chats with me. When did you tell yours?”

“Uh… I was outed. Got caught with someone and his parents went apeshit and told mine.”

“Caught with? Oh… your ex.”

“Not sure you can call someone you messed around with a bit an ex,”” Kyoutani muttered. “But yeah. Anyway, he copped a lot of flak, my mum was cool about it, Dad wasn’t but he didn’t whack me.” He snorted.”Think I’m s’posed to be grateful for that.” Screwing up his face, he started to walk down the garden. “How was practise?”

“Irihata-san didn’t make it. Watacchi tells me I was like Godzilla at lunchtime, but I thought it went well. Afternoon was fine. Hattori’s _good_.”

Kyoutani shot him a side-eye. “So are you.”

“Competition’s necessary though, right?”

“Mmm, guess all I ever wanted to do was whack the ball and score points, but I improved more when I wanted to beat Iwaizumi-san—and that bald Karasuno bastard. Just don’t over think it, all right?”

He nodded and together they strolled around the garden, arms occasionally touching, until they came to a different area stacked with decking and sacks of woodchip.

“Next project,” Kyoutani explained and sat on one of the sacks. “Play area for Tooru-chan.”

“Lucky kid,” Yahaba replied, wondering how Kyoutani felt. But there was no edge to his voice and he didn’t seem to hold any resentment towards his brother.

“I know, right! Can’t believe they wouldn’t build me a court.” He tugged Yahaba towards him, slipping his hands around his waist to pull him down next to him. “They can’t see us from here, and I haven’t had my post practise snog from you yet.”

Yahaba could see why Kyoutani didn’t like his step-dad. There was nothing intrinsically wrong with the guy, just that he was the type who always rubbed Kyoutani up the wrong way. He talked a lot, and with enthusiasm, asked questions and purported to be interested in the answers. Kyoutani was silent for much of the meal, but he replied when asked directly and once or twice chipped in with an answer when Yahaba was being grilled about volleyball. And with Michiko chattering constantly about the puppies and wanting to be a Setter with equal force, Yahaba at times felt like a spectator watching a match, his head twisting from side to side.

“Are we too much for you?” Kyoutani’s mom asked as he helped clear the dishes. “Mealtimes can be chaotic, but at least Tooru’s sleeping through it.”

“I’m an only child, and Dad often works late,” he replied.

“So it’s usually only you and your mother?”

“Don’t interrogate him,” Kyoutani snapped.

“I’m not!” she protested and then rubbed her hand over his fuzz of hair. “I’m interested, that’s all. You never have friends over. This is nice, okay?”

He grunted something and returned to washing up.

“Kentarou would rather eat in his room,” she teased. “But it’s really the only way to get any conversation out of him.”

“Mum!”

“With the lights off,” she continued and laughed. “Today was the chattiest I’ve seen you for a while!”

“Because I don’t want to talk all the time!”

“Is he like this at volleyball, Yahaba-kun?”

“Uh…”

“Mu-um!”

Just then a wail reached them from another room and she turned to her son. “Will you check on Tooru for me?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t have to answer her questions,” he mumbled and then stalked out.

“Am I that obvious?” she asked cheerfully.

“Um…” The plate was slippery in his hands, but he managed to finish drying it without dropping it.

“I only want to say thank you, actually,” she replied, and the teasing smile had gone from her face.

“For what?”

“Kentarou, of course. He’s happier I think, or at least more settled. It’s been a difficult few years for him, but he’d always had volleyball, and then when he dropped that …” She sniffed a little. “I don’t know if it’s the team, or perhaps it’s you, Yahaba-kun, but he’s less angry, less tightly wound. I think he’s happier in his own skin, if that makes sense. It doesn’t itch at him all the time.”

Before he could answer (not that he could think of anything to say) Kyoutani wandered back in. “Eiji-san’s taking care of it.”

“But he’s okay?”

“Nappy, I think. Breathing sounded fine.”

“Good.” She gave a sigh of relief. “Right, I’ll leave the rest of this to you. We could probably give you a lift home if you’d like, Yahaba-kun.”

“Oh, no, the bus is fine. It takes me almost to my door.”

Watching her go, Kyoutani waited at least a minute before saying, “Was she grilling you?”

He smiled. “A bit. I’m not badly burnt, just charred.”

“Ha-bloody-ha!” He was scowling again, his hands gripping one of the wet bowls so hard his knuckles had whitened.

“Honestly, she’s lovely. We talked a little about the team.” He shoulder bumped Kyoutani, trying to jolt him out of this mood. “Do you mind me being here?”

And then came the silence; Yahaba’s heart dropped like a stone.

“I don’t know,” Kyoutani admitted at last. “It’s … it’s like I’ve been able to separate things. So there’s home, school, and volleyball, except this year it’s all getting kind of confused and you’re overlapping into everything and …” He swallowed and then handed the dish over to Yahaba to dry. “It’s not your fault. I’m just not used to _this_.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I’m not even sure separating things was a good idea,” he continued, his voice a little gruff. “But it felt sort of … safe, you know? Like I could get why no one liked me because I didn’t like them and it was like a choice to keep back, but now …”

“You want people to like you?”

“I dunno. Maybe I want to like them.”

“You get on with Watari.”

“Hard not to.” Handing over the last bowl, he leant against the sink and stared at the opposite wall. “There’s a bus in twenty minutes. After that, it’s one every hour.”

 _Ah, he’s had enough_.

“Are you in tomorrow?”

“No, day after,” he replied. “Been told to have two or three days off practice, too.”

“Do you want to meet up after? Study a little more.”

Squinting at the ajar door and then at Yahaba, Kyoutani drew closer and hooked his finger into Yahaba’s belt loops. “Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think studying with you is a great idea. I mean, thanks and I’m grateful, but we didn’t exactly study, did we?”

“I guess.” He stared at the floor, wondering if Kyoutani was telling him the whole truth. Because maybe this was too much for him. What if by coming here he’d rubbed away at the lines and hadn’t just caused an overlap but a flood which Kyoutani was drowning in?

“Two weeks until tests,” Kyoutani muttered, and with unbelievable delicacy he stroked Yahaba’s cheek. “I’m going to knuckle down and do everything I can to pass. I got you to thank for that.”

“What do you mean?” he whispered.

“You… you’re always comparing yourself to people like Oikawa. And you sell yourself short practically all the time—”

“No, I—”

“Ssh.” He placed a fingertip on Yahaba’s mouth. “But you don’t give up. And you’re always thinking about other people. Too much, in my opinion, but it’s why you’re a good Captain. And if you can put that effort in, then I can.”

Winding his arms around him, Kyoutani nuzzled Yahaba’s lips, plying them apart. And as usual, Yahaba’s stomach melted at the closeness, his heart hammering in his chest, and he wondered again how he could possibly concentrate on anything else at all in the world when Kyoutani was making him ache like this.

A noise from another room caused them to break apart, Kyoutani muttering a profanity as he released him. “I’ll walk with you to the bus stop.”

“Are you going to be okay studying alone?”

He gave him a lopsided smile, which was more of a snarl. “You know me, I’m better on the outskirts.”

Life went on. Practice continued, Kyoutani returning three days later showed them all just what they’d missed when he unleashed a ferocious set of serves. He was tense walking in, and tense walking back to class, but his focus was strong and he kept his temper in check, save for glowering at Kunimi when he didn’t run back for a receive.

“I’ll be late this afternoon,” he muttered to Yahaba on Friday lunchtime. “I’m … um … going to see sensei about my last test. Coach knows about it.”

“The Literature test?”

He nodded, swallowed and rasped out a groan. “I…”

“You still have time,” Yahaba assured him. “It wasn’t the real test and it’s good you’re seeing sensei about it. Honestly, it’s my fault for distracting you because I’m sure we were getting somewhere and I’m … ” He trailed off, squinting suspiciously as Kyoutani’s shoulders began to shake. “Why are you laughing?”

“I passed, you numbnut. I mean, I scraped it, but yeah, it was a pass, and I’m going to see sensei so she can go through it with me.”

He smiled widely. “That’s brilliant! See I knew you could do it.”

“Careful, Yahaba-sensei. One test result does not a Summer Training Camp make.”

“But it’s a start.”

“I guess something you said got through to my dumb brain.” He ducked Yahaba’s outraged punch and scream of ‘You’re not dumb!’ adding, “Or something you did ...”

He gave a wink, imperceptible to anyone but Yahaba, the sort of wink that catapulted Yahaba right back to his bedroom on Monday, and he felt his knees weaken. Seeing everyone else had gone to the changing room, Yahaba wound his arms round his neck. “Fancy a repeat?” he husked, trying (and failing) to gain any ascendency. “Come over to mine tonight?”

Kyoutani closed his eyes. “Don’t tempt me. Really, don’t. ‘Cuz I really want to, but I know I’ve gotta concentrate, and … um …” Gently extricating himself, he screwed up his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way but Sensei’s suggested I study with someone and that person’s agreed.

“I-I thought you wanted to study alone.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s not one of my best ideas. I’ve not done too well with that in the past. Look, it helped being with someone and tossing ideas about, but –” he swallowed. “I know I’m not bright, you know, and it’s kinda embarrassing in front of you.”

“But I don’t think less of you and I don’t think you’re ‘dumb’.”

“You might.” He didn’t move but stared into Yahaba’s eyes, saying no more.

“And this new person. You don’t mind studying with them?”

Tousling Yahaba’s hair, he gave him a small smile. “It’s Ishigawa-kun,” he replied. “But she can only do after school. I need to pass this, all right.”

“I know. And I know it’s only until the exams are over, but it feels like forever and just as we were… um…”

“It’s not like an injury you know, or dropping out of volleyball,” Kyoutani muttered. “We won’t have to _ease_ back into it. Day the tests end…” He trailed off and reached out, grabbing Yahaba’s ass. “Day the tests end, I’ll be all over you like a rash.”

The heat had been relentless. The sort of day Yahaba would like to spend in a swimming pool. And not the sort of day where he wanted to be sat at a desk next to the window. He checked over his answers again, made a small adjustment to one figure because his 5’s did at times look like 3’s sighed and put his pencil down. There were twenty minutes to go, and although he could have left the room early, he sat contemplating whether to make even more changes to his answers, staring out of the window and wondering if his good thoughts could penetrate glass and lift Kyoutani to pass.

He could picture him now. At least, the image of Kyoutani pouring over his paper, face intense and fingers furiously writing, was hopefully the right one. The other, of Kyoutani chucking his pen across the room, snarling at the adjudicator and kicking his chair across the room, was a vision which invaded his dawn to waking dreams far too frequently.

He wondered what Kyoutani would do when he was done. Would he hang around and wait for him—maybe if the test had gone well—or would he head straight for the gym to slam a few serves down the court? If it had gone really badly, with no hope at all, he might even leave school without heading to practice, stomping onto his bus home to lock himself in his room.

As the sun went behind one solitary puff of cloud, Yahaba squinted out of the window. His heart did a double-take, a thump-thump, leaping into his throat, because outside leaning against the wall opposite, one foot planted on the bricks and hands in pockets stood Kyoutani.

Save for the school uniform, he was the very image of louche bad-boy. Now he was loosening his tie and balling his blazer at his feet to roll up his sleeves.

Yahaba’s mouth dried. Picking up his test paper, he tried to casually stroll to the front of the classroom without chicaning off a desk, and placed the paper on his sensei’s table.

“You’re sure you’re done?” she murmured, not even looking up from her book.

“Mmm.” He bowed and backed away before she could register it was him leaving, the guy who usually stayed right to the end fretting over each word or permeation, and then broke into a run outside in the corridor.

Kyoutani was staring at him as he slid out of the door, eyes intense, a tiny smile on his face as if he’d known, as if he’d been waiting for him to appear.

“You’ve finished early?” Yahaba asked a tentative question. Did early mean he’d found it far too easy, or had walked out in disgust?

“We had the literature paper so started before you, remember?”

“Oh, yes.” He stepped closer, trying to look insouciant as he slithered next to him on the wall. “How was it?”

“My brain hurts. And my hand.” He started to flex it. “Fucking pen broke, and then so did the spare. Started using a pencil but the lead snapped, so I was about to use red crayon, but … uh … sensei realised and brought me a pen.”

“You finished it?”

He nodded and stared at his feet. “It was hard, sorry. I really don’t know how I’ve done.”

“You did your best.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Wiping his brow, he stretched out his hand clasping Yahaba’s. “Wanna toss for me.”

“Is that a literal question, or an unplucked cherries metaphor?”

He laughed, rasping and guttural, and then licked his lips. “Maybe it’s both.”

Saturday practise at Seijou began in the afternoon. Yahaba turned up early, as he always did, to find Kyoutani sitting on the steps.

“Don’t get excited,” he said. “Ossan had some stuff to do in town and gave me a lift.”

“You’re changed too.”

“Nothing else to do while I waiting,” Kyoutani muttered.

“And sweating.”

“I went for a run! Not all of us sit around on our fricking phones.”

“I’m not complaining,” Yahaba replied, and twirled the keys between his fingers. “How are you today?”

“Better for those fucking tests being done.” Kyoutani smirked. “And yesterday afternoon was kinda good.”

They’d found a storeroom, fortuitously unlocked and had barricaded themselves in before practise officially started. Kyoutani had taken it slower this time, showing Yahaba exactly how good a swirling tongue and caressing fingertips felt, his knees close to buckling as he sucked him to climax.

“Only kinda?” he asked, almost fainting at the recollection.

“Yeah, I spiked the sweetest inner shot, don’t you remember?” He roared out a laugh and jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry, but you’re so easy to wind up.”

He was still chuckling as they went inside, throwing his kitbag in the changing room and exchanging his trainers for his volleyball shoes. It was as the others entered, Kindaichi at a run, Kunimi sloping in at a more measured pace and a gaggle of first years, that Kyoutani’s expression became far more closed and implacable. He could fit in when they played, his mindset had altered since the third years had left and he’d assumed the responsibilities of the ace. He could fit with Yahaba and even Watari (especially since Ishigawa had tutored him) but he couldn’t or wouldn’t open up to the others.

And maybe that didn’t matter. They still worked as a team, so what if Kyoutani didn’t join them on every social occasion—it’s not like Kunimi did all the time anyway—but … but … but …

He knew it was selfish. He knew the impetus was coming from his own needs, but when it came down to it, he wanted them to see Kyoutani the way he did. (Well, not everything. None of them had to know about storerooms and cut-short study sessions.)

But the practice was shaping up to be a productive one. Released from the tyranny of tests, there was a certain abandonment about their play, and a tentative trying of new things. At the end, Kindaichi taking a ball didn’t stand on the line to serve, but a few paces behind. His serve had always been steady, reliable, but not especially strong, yet that afternoon, he tried a run up threw the ball as he jumped and then sent the ball skewhiff into the net. Accepting another ball, he tried again, face a study in concentration as he paced it out, but again it failed to get over the net.

“Break it down,” Kyoutani muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh…” He screwed up his eyes, pausing and confirming in Yahaba’s mind that he’d not meant him to hear. “Stages. He needs to learn in stages.”

“Like?”

“Learn the jump bit first, then add the run.” He turned his head to the side as he assessed Kindaichi’s fourth attempt. “His balance is off too. Timing’s okay, though.”

“Would you show him?”

“Huh? I’m not a coach. And there’s no way he’ll serve like me—he’s too tall for one thing.”

“You could give him some pointers, though,” he said, using his idle voice, the one he hoped would make Kyoutani think he wasn’t pushing it.

“Jeez, you’re even starting to sound like Oikawa now.” He mimed vomiting, but then instead of taking his own turn, he handed the ball back to Kindaichi, whispering in his ear.

Clearly surprised at the intervention, Kindaichi blinked and looked over his shoulder to Yahaba, then nodded a ‘thanks’. From the baseline, he threw the ball in the air, jumped and then sent the ball over the net. It wasn’t strong. It wasn’t aimed at a particular spot, and any Libero worth their salt would have hoofed it straight to the opposing Setter, but Kindaichi gave a wobbly grin turned to bow to Kyoutani, and trotted to the back of the line.

And of course, Kyoutani’s jump serve was perfect. A lesson in strength, aim and speed, whiplashing his body to produce what could only be an ace. The only difference was the reaction from his squadmates, who added whoops to the usual smattering of applause.

“What have you done to Mad-Dog?” Watari asked. “He helped Kindaichi.”

“He wants the team to get stronger, like we all do,” Yahaba said, keeping his voice neutral to hide the bubbling excitement.

“Sure …” Watari grinned. “When he sits down and shares a joke with Kunimi, I’ll know you’ve cracked it, Captain-san.”

“Does it matter that he doesn’t?”

“Not in the slightest,” Watari replied cheerfully. “But I’m not the one getting his knickers in a knot because he wants evewyone to wuv his boyfwiend.”

Scowling, Yahaba took the ball, and then just to prove that he wasn’t the slightest bit put out at Watari’s (accurate) assessment, he fired off a jump serve, directly into the opposite corner. His next landed in the centre of the court, placed to discombobulate the Setter, and third at any Shrimpy-arsed Middle Blocker to stop him from participating in a quick.

“Nice serves, Yahaba-kun,” Mizoguchi said, pulling him to the side at the end of the session. “Might get you trying with a run up over summer. Your aim’s improved exponentially, which will vastly make up for lacking power.”

Unsure if that was a compliment, or a barb, Yahaba merely gave a nod. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Irihata had pulled Kyoutani away for a chat, and was wracking his brains to think what it could have been about, when the Coach called him over.

“You should know this as well, Yahaba-kun,” Irihata began, his normally strident voice at a low level, “but on the quiet, I thought I should let you know that I had an informal meeting with Kyoutani-kun’s sensei and the Principal.” He sucked on his lip. “I wanted to know if anything could be done in the event of … uh … having to attend supplementary classes.”

Kyoutani, dumbstruck, stared at the wall, his eyes glassing over, his hands furling into fists.

“The Principal stuck by the school line as I thought he would. Results are non-negotiable, although he did sympathise.” He took a deep breath, then reached out and clasped Kyoutani’s shoulder. “Fortunately your sensei was able to tell me that after looking through your papers, she could see you’d passed. Vast improvement in Literature and the English paper, too.” He cuffed Kyoutani on the side of his head. “Well done. I’m proud of you, and thank you for the effort you’ve put in to help the team.”

“Uh…” Kyoutani blinked several times, his eyes glistening, throat catching as he struggled to make sense not just of the words, but the Coach’s appreciation. “Really?”

“That’s amazing! Fantastic!” Yahaba screamed. His mouth was wide, beaming as if they’d thrashed Karasuno, and it was only then he realised he’d wound his arms around Kyoutani and the rest of the team were staring at them.

“Get off!” Kyoutani growled, but there was a smile on his lips and the relief was as palpable as if he’d howled it out to everyone in the gym.

It was a cheerful time in the changing room. Although Kyoutani said very little, there was a quiet contented hum emanating from his lips, and his relaxed demeanour appeared to infect the rest of the squad who were happily chattering away about the end of term and the encroaching Summer sessions.

And when, inevitably, Kindaichi shuffled over, Yahaba was ready with the answer.

“Summer barbecue,” he pre-emptied, and waited for the room to quieten down. “It’s festival weekend and I can’t hold it at my place, so here are a couple of options for you. We try to find an alternate date,” he raised his hands at the groans, “or we go to the beach.”

“The beach?” Kindaichi considered.

“Won’t it be crowded?” Kunimi asked, and gave a little shudder. “We’d have to get there very early.”

Oh … yeah.

“I can do that,” Yahaba breezed, his mind whirring over having to arrive at nine to plant a spot while waiting for everyone else.

“Another weekend?” Hattori piped up. “I’m free most of summer , Yahaba-san.”

“But it’s finding a date we can all get to,” Yahaba replied. “This is supposed to be a team event, and I know many of you have other commitments.”

“Beach then,” Watari said. “Bus route’s good, or maybe we can find a parent to transport us and a barbecue if necessary there.”

“It’s—” Kindaichi swallowed. “I guess it’s the best plan,” he muttered.

The room had gone silent, apart from a few rumblings that sounded far less excited than before.

“Or you could have it at mine.”

And now the silence was frozen. All heads in the changing room turned one way, and the hairs on Yahaba’s neck prickled.

Kyoutani cleared his throat. “It’s a bus ride, but we’ve got a decent sized garden and there’s a barbecue already there. Bring food and drink. Afternoon at mine, and then we can piss off to the festival.” He looked up from his hands, took in all the faces staring at him and bared his teeth. “It’s okay, I don’t bite.”

“Got to be better than the beach,” Kunimi said in undertone, not at all perturbed when Yahaba glared at him.

“Pfft, think about it,” Kyoutani said as he packed up his kitbag. “No skin off my nose.”

Catching up with him outside the gym, Yahaba hauled him back. “Do you mean it?”

“Guess, or I wouldn’t have offered.” He squinted at Yahaba. “I’ve asked Mum. She’s cool with it.”

“But you don’t even _want_ to come to the barbecue.”

He shrugged. “It’s one afternoon. I c’n handle that.” Lifting his hand, he curled Yahaba’s hair behind his ear. “I need to meet Ishigawa and thank her properly. Wanna come along?”

He pressed his lips into Kyoutani’s palm. “Can do. Shall I message Watari?”

“Mmm, good idea. Then after …” He trailed off and grinned, and snaked his arm around Yahaba’s waist, reeling him in until their torsos touched. “We could go off somewhere together. You could try some … uh … _sthenolagnia_ _.”_

__

__

“Steno-what-now? 

__

Kyoutani laughed. “You think I’m saying that again.” 

“But what does it mean?” 

“Google it,” he replied, walking away, but slowly, his hand loose at his side, fingers twitching. He looked back over his shoulder. “Just don’t ask me to spell it." 

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Yahaba cried and jogged after him.

“Captain-san,” Kyoutani sighed, twisted around to face him and fluffed up his hair. “Some things are non-negotiable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, kudosing, commenting, whatevering. It's much appreciated. I've slowed down a lot this year, not writing nearly as much, but I do ove the dynamics of this ship, so there might be another one coming.


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